


Cause you are the Only One

by loubricant



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Depressive Thoughts, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Future talk, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Louis has a lot of obvious life-altering realization moments, M/M, Marriage Proposal, OT5 Friendship, Overuse of the phrase 'his boy', Recreational Drug Use, Sad Poetry, cheesy af, dumb boys in love, im really actually terrible at tagging, larry stylinson - Freeform, light zerrie, mention of niall and gemma as a couple, no smut in this but there will be a sequel!!, proposal, set before they start the wwa tour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 02:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2253237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loubricant/pseuds/loubricant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>-<br/>He knows Zayn is right, that he isn’t what Harry deserves but if he tries to be every day, he might get close. Louis doesn’t know what exactly caused them to fall into this vicious cycle. Maybe it was the hiding. Maybe it was taking things for granted. Maybe it was the self-doubt and the jealousy. All Louis knew was Harry was it for him, he couldn’t possibly settle for anyone else after having the best of the best. He loved Harry so much it made his head spin and his heart hurt just thinking about it. All he wanted in life was to see Harry happy (he also wanted ten little Tomlinson-Styles running around and a couple animals and a house in the country, but that was neither here, nor there) and he knew then that he was going to do everything he possibly could to make up for his shittiness, and never, ever let them drift apart again.</p><p>-</p><p>Loosely based off Ed Sheeran's song "One"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cause you are the Only One

**Author's Note:**

> hiiii  
> There are probably a bunch of mistakes and it's so cheesy it might actually make your teeth rot, I'm sorry if that happens. let me know what you think of it :)
> 
>  warning: there are very slight references to self harm, no graphic scenes and no one actually does it but if this is triggering to you please look into seeking help, come talk to me if you want, I'll always listen and try to give advice
> 
> enjoy!

**_Cause you are the Only One_ **

 

 

 

 

 

Louis was lying on the plush white carpet in the living area smoking a cigarette when Harry entered their flat. He tossed his bag on the little table in the entry hall, along with his keys and his wallet. He neatly placed his shoes next to the pile of vans and shuffled further into the flat to see where Louis was. If he was home at all. It seemed like he never was these days.

“Hey Hazza babe! C’mere and give me a cuddle, I’ve missed you!” Louis shouted from the floor, words slurring slightly.

Harry walked into the living area to see Louis with arms open, smoke swirling up from his mouth as he spoke; a joint delicately placed between two fingers that Harry could clearly tell had been lit for a while.

“Louis, you know I don’t like being around you when you smoke. It’s terrible for your health and your voice. And you could choke lying down like that,” Harry frowns. Louis giggles.

“Oh come off it Hazza, I’m just having a bit of fun!”

“Well, have it somewhere else, I don’t want that shit in my lungs,” Harry sighs, starting to walk away from where he was towered over Louis. Louis makes an indignant noise and grabs Harry’s leg.

“Harry wait! I’ll put it out. Look,” he stubs the blunt out the box containing more cigarettes and tosses it on coffee table. Their very expensive coffee table Harry spent months looking for and had to have shipped all the way from Morocco, he might add.

“See. I put it out now you don’t have to breathe it in.” Louis cranes his neck up and takes a gulp of beer. “So how was your day, Hazza dear?”

Harry sighs. He may as well just say it now, he doubts Louis even cares but it’s been bothering him all day. “Nick asked me to go the Caymans with him.”

To his surprise, Louis frowns. “Grimshaw asked you to go on vacation with him?”

Harry nods.

“Just the two of you?”

Harry nods again. He notices Louis’ fist clench in the carpet out of the corner of his eye. He sits up, distaste clearly displayed on his face.

“And what did you say?”

“I said no.”

“Why? I thought he was your amazing, wonderful, charming best mate, and you love beaches.”

“You’re my best mate. I’d much rather go with you on holiday. And I don’t love beaches, not that you would know.” Harry didn’t mean for it to come out so harshly but it’s the truth, Louis doesn’t even bother getting to know what Harry’s latest interests and hobbies and feelings or anything are these days.

Harry groans internally as he watches Louis’ demeanor change from relaxed and care-free to stiff and closed off.

“Well. You should have gone with him. I’m sure you’d have much more fun than being stuck here with me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to Zayn’s.” He grabs his beer and his pack of cigarettes, stuffing them, along with his keys into the pocket of his skinny jeans, as he walks towards the door, throwing on a pair of ratty vans.

He slams the door as he walks out, leaving Harry with a cracked heart, a dark mind, and urges to paint pictures on his skin with bright red.

 It isn't the first time. 

 

;

 

Louis stumbles down the hall towards Zayn and Perrie’s flat, taking gulps of his beer and a mind filled with thoughts of Harry and Nick. Spending days lying on warm sand with the ocean at their feet. Exchanging lazy kisses and half-arsed handjobs. Sipping their pretentious fruity drinks and giggling about old times. It makes Louis feel nearly fall down at the wave of nausea that hits him and he feels like throwing up, if only to purge the horrible thoughts crowding his mind.

He makes it to Zayn’s door eventually, after having to stop numerous times to grab the wall and wait for the spots sprinkling his vision to disappear. He knocks, hearing a yell of "It's open!" and tells himself he won’t cry, but at the sight of Perrie with a disgruntled Zayn lying on the couch in the background he can’t help the tears that build up in his eyes.

Perrie sees his face and instantly pulls him in by the waist, walking him over to an armchair and rubbing his arms gently as he sits down shakily. She takes the beer from his hand, placing it on the coffee table and kneeling in front of him, with concerned eyes. He nearly lets out a sob at how great his friends are, even when he’s such an arsehole himself and so undeserving of their love.

She must notice him try to hold back the tears, ever the observant one, and she sits up on her knees pulling him into a slightly uncomfortable hug, but nevertheless comforting as she wraps her arms tightly around his back and runs one hand through his hair.

“Let it out, love,” she whispers. Suddenly Louis feels every emotional wall he ever built crash and burn and once he starts, he can’t seem to stop.

His body wracks with sobs, the ugly kinds that involves snot and odd sounds and are just all around unpleasant. His hands shake from where they’re wrapped around Perrie’s middle, soaking her jumper with the waterfalls pouring from his eyes.

“Shh, deep breaths Lou, you have to breathe. C’mon breathe with me babe.” Louis tries his hardest to calm down, breathing in Perrie’s comforting scent and focusing on her soothing hands on his back and in his hair. He almost calms down enough to speak but then his mind fills with thoughts of how lucky his is to have someone like Perrie and that he could be in Harry’s arms right now, but he’s not because he fucked that up as well, the one thing he thought he would always have, and it brings forth a new round of powerful sobs.

He cries for what feels like hours, maybe it is, he doesn’t know, and Perrie just holds him, whispering soothing things. She eventually pulls him into her lap (he’s small enough both physically and emotionally to fit) sharing a worried look with her fiancé.

“Lou please just breathe for me. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on. You’re making us really worried, love.” Louis forces himself to take a deep breath and wipe his eyes.

“I-I’m so s-sorry. I’ve made your jumper all di-disgusting and ruined your night. I’ll buy you a new one. I should j-just go. I…” Louis makes a move to get up and Perrie digs her nails in, which are long and filed to a point, one might add.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going Tomlinson? You just spent a good half hour crying out your weight in tears. Sit your big arse back down and tell me what on earth happened.”

Louis can’t help but smile slightly at Perrie’s comment, but it vanishes from his face almost as soon as it appears. He takes another deep breath and swallows before talking.

“Nick, he, um. He asked Harry to go the, er. The fucking Grand Cayman Islands with him,” Louis gets out, spitting the last bit out angrily.

“Oh Lou, is that was this is all about? What was Harry’s answer?”

“No. He said he would rather go on vacation with me and that he doesn’t love beaches anymore, not that I would know.” Louis takes a shuddering breath. “I- would you mind getting me a beer? I could really use one right about now,” Louis replies.

Perrie sighs. “Sure, bub.” She gets up to fetch him one from the fridge when Zayn decides to speak up.

“No Pez, he doesn’t need another fucking beer. God knows that’s probably the reason he’s in this mess in the first place. Although even when he’s not drunk he still is pretty talented at screwing things up, so I can’t be sure. What I am sure of though, Tomlinson,” he progressively gets louder, pointing an accusing finger at Louis and standing up, “is that you are going to lose the one person who would always put up with all of your shit and accept you and love every bit of you, even the bad parts. You’ve neglected him lately and you know it’s dangerous to leave him alone to his thoughts and insecurities all the time and don’t get me wrong, I know you’ve got plenty of those yourself, but God dammit, Louis, maybe if you just stayed with your boy for more than a couple minutes and just loved him the way he always does you, you wouldn’t have so many to begin with. You always say he deserves better and he sure as hell does, he deserves _you_ , but if you don’t start acting like he does then sooner or later even he will realize it’s a lost cause and you’ll lose him for good. So get your arse out of my fucking flat, get your shit together, and go tell your boy you love him so he knows the feeling is still very much mutual.”

By now, Zayn is standing over Louis’ hunched over figure and he pulls him up by one arm, dragging him over to the door. When he sees the look on Louis’ face, so broken and lost, however, he instantly softens and pulls Louis into a tight hug.

“It can still be fixed, Lou. He still loves you as madly and unconditionally as he did four years ago, he just doesn’t think you feel the same anymore. You can be just as great together as you used to be but you have to understand that Harry has seen you at your worst just as well as he has seen you at your best and he never left. He knows what you have to offer and he wants it, nothing less and nothing more, he isn’t going to leave you just because you feel like you don’t deserve him. I don’t think I deserve Pezza, not one bit, but I count my blessings and always try to be what she deserves and love her as deeply as I know how. Love works in a funny way, but you have to do your part first. Please go home to Harry. He needs you just as much as you need him,” Zayn whispers kissing Louis’ cheek quickly and shoving him out the door.

Louis collapses against it, head spinning. He sits there, slumped on the floor outside of Zayn’s flat for hours, indistinct chatter coming from within the flat and knows that at this moment, he can’t get any lower. He’s hit rock bottom and it is really not pleasant here at all.

 

;

 

He knows Zayn is right, that he isn’t what Harry deserves but if he tries to be every day, he might get close. Louis doesn’t know what exactly caused them to fall into this vicious cycle. Maybe it was the hiding. Maybe it was taking things for granted. Maybe it was the self-doubt and the jealousy. All Louis knew was Harry was it for him, he couldn’t possibly settle for anyone else after having the best of the best. He loved Harry so much it made his head spin and his heart hurt just thinking about it. All he wanted in life was to see Harry happy (he also wanted ten little Tomlinson-Styles running around and a couple animals and a house in the country, but that was neither here, nor there) and he knew then that he was going to do everything he possibly could to make up for his shittyness, and never, ever let them drift apart again.

 

With a new found determinedness, Louis picked himself off the floor, walking back towards their flat. He paused when he passed a rubbish bin on the way down the hall, staring at it curiously for a moment before looking down at the lump in his pocket. He quickly fished the pack of smokes out and tossed them, without giving it a second thought. Harry didn’t like it, so he wouldn’t do it.  Nothing more to it.

He unlocked the door after many attempts, suddenly nervous to face Harry. He had no idea what to say. He had no idea if Harry would forgive him or not, all he could do was pray that he wouldn’t fuck it up, because he honestly didn’t think he could handle another day without kissing Harry and touching him and holding him.

The lump in his throat nearly cut off his airway when he realized they hadn’t said “I love you” in at least a week, hadn’t kissed in two, and hadn’t had sex in a month. It almost made him break out into another round of tears because _fuck,_ _how_ did he let this happen? What was wrong with him?? He was such a fuck-up, Harry should be kissed and held and loved every hour, every _minute_ of his life and Louis couldn’t even give him that. Maybe he should with Nick. At least Grimshaw could have enough decency to tell Harry he loved him every day.

Louis mentally hit himself for those thoughts; that’s what got him into this shit in the first place. This time around, he would tell Harry he loved him every day, he would always kiss him good night and good morning, he would never take him for granted, and God dammit, he _would_ be as close to what Harry deserved as he possibly could.

He took his shoes off, taking a minute to organize his gross amount of shoes into a neat line, next to Harry’s ridiculously large boots. Harry always says no one is ever allowed to wear shoes in his house because that makes it feel like it’s simply a place to live, not a _home_. He also vacuumed excessively, and wearing shoes made that a bit counter-productive.

Louis took a deep breath, walking quickly towards their bedroom, where he assumed Harry was since the lights were off everywhere in the house. He opened the door to find the bed neatly made and very much empty. Louis felt his heart drop. _Maybe he’s just taking a bath or he went to one of the other boy’s flats,_ he reassured himself. He knew Harry wouldn’t go out this late, he was opposed to the thought it, liked staying at home late at night and enjoying the peacefulness of it. But then again, as Harry said earlier, Louis didn’t really know anymore. The thought made his throat burn and his skin crawl.

He checked all the bathrooms, not finding his curly haired boyfriend in any of them. He was progressively getting more worried, but decided to check the guest bedroom before he called everyone he knew obsessively.

He shuffled nervously down the hall, almost hoping that Harry wasn’t in there because in all of their years together, there had never been a time when one of them slept in there. Harry made him promise at the very beginning of their friendship, before they even got together, that no matter what happened, they would never go to bed angry at each other.

He stood in front of the door for a few moments before finding the courage to open it. He could pinpoint the exact moment he felt his world implode into a million bits, because his eyes were met with the sight of one Harry Styles, curled up in the guest bed; tear tracks obvious on his face in the light that Louis just noticed was on, casting a dim glow over the breathtaking boy. His journal was open next to his head, and the sheet twisted around him. It was obvious that he fell asleep in the middle of writing, and was having a fitful time of it.

Louis felt as if he had gone into autopilot as he walked over to the bed, untwisting the sheets from around Harry’s body and tucked them neatly up under his chin, kissing his forehead as he did so. He grabbed Harry’s journal, making a move to close it and place it on the nightstand when a line caught his eye.

 

“Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing.” – _s.p_

 

The line makes Louis’ head hurt, having no idea what to make of it. He hopes Harry didn’t mean it in the way Louis is assuming.

Harry’s journal was open to this page when Louis walked in, only that single line filling it, but the date which he wrote it wasn’t today; it was a few days ago. Louis doesn’t flip to anything before that  because those thoughts are entirely Harry’s and he won’t invade that, but he can’t help reading up until today because he’s terrified of what has been running through Harry’s head; praying it isn’t what he thinks it is.

He knows he shouldn’t but Harry would never tell him these things himself, and he reassures himself it’s only to make sure Harry isn’t doing anything…bad.

Hesitantly, he flips to the next page.

 

_It’s amazing how someone can keep your heart beating just by existing._

 

Nothing else is on that page but it’s enough make Louis’ heart beat nearly out of his chest and his eyes to fill with tears.

 

“Your words stole my soul away so I craved to hear your voice but instead I watched us decay like I never had a choice.” – _p.d.f_

The tears spill over.

 

“It’s true that it has to both rain and shine for a flower to grow, but what happens if it always storms and the flower drowns?” – _m.p_

 A couple tears hit the page, smudging the ink. Louis’ hands shake.

 

“I wanted people to fall in love with our love,

I wanted people to wonder how we even breathed without each other,

I wanted people to see the fire in our eyes that kept our love going.

I wanted people to think of us,

I wanted you and me.

But I guess life is barely providing what I need

And what I want would just be selfish.”

– _Our Love Could Have Been for the Movies (m.p)_

Under the poem, Harry’s own words cover the page, flashing at Louis like the sirens on top of an ambulance in utter darkness.

 

 "All I need is you. What did I do so wrong to make you leave?"

 

The date is from today, but there’s one more page, ink splotched in some places. Louis’ tears cover Harry’s dried one on the paper. He has never felt so unworthy and horrible as he does in this moment.

 

When the only form of oxygen you breathe in comes in the form of nicotine

And you spend your days in a drunken haze of vodka and hatred

And your nights are spent restless with empty eyes and metal blades

I hope you find the courage to run away from everything that ever made you miserable and never look back.

-

_h.s_

.

 

H.S. Harry wrote the last one. That’s it for Louis’ poor emotions. He burst into tears, his entire body shaking.

Harry shifts in his sleep, and his eyebrows furrow. Louis tries to calm down so he doesn’t wake the beautiful boy that was so artfully broken; broken because of him. It makes him cry harder; heart-wrenching sobs that were actually painful to get out.

He stands up; holding the journal tightly to his chest like it’s the last piece of Harry he has left. It very well might be. He wraps his arms around himself, as if trying to physically keep himself from falling apart.

He makes it out the door, not before hitting the wall and the doorframe and gaining himself a couple sure bruises. _Good,_ he thinks. _Maybe they’ll reach so deep I’ll be able to forget all the hell I’ve created._ But he doesn’t wish that, because Harry always said to mend things before you went to bed each night. Maybe now he wishes to sleep for a lot longer than any normal person does, yes, but he will do everything he can to fix his supernova of a boy that burned brighter that all the stars in the universe combined, even at his darkest times.

As soon as he’s out in the hall and the door is closed, he falls to his knees and breaks into a thousand pieces, letting them shatter and slide across the floor, only to fall into cracks in crevices never to be found again.

 

;

 

He doesn’t stop crying until the first hints of dawn appear outside the full length window at the end of the hallway. He’s left gasping for breath, his lungs seemed to have deflated in on themselves and he can barely see his eyes are so swollen. There’s a puddle of his sadness on the wood below and his lips are cracked and this, _this_ is worse than rock bottom.

 

He finally falls asleep once he'd cried so much he feels like he doesn't have any water left in his body feeling worse than he has in probably his entire life. 

-

Harry wakes up the next morning to light streaming through the windows in obscene amounts and groans, grabbing the pillow next to him and throwing it over his face. Only then does he realize that one- there should be curtains in their room, and two- there should be a boy cursing him at right about…now for stealing his pillow. Except there’s not. And the memories flood back to Harry of his boyfriend leaving him alone once again last night. And falling asleep alone in a strange bed to his inner demons screaming at him until it got so bad he started screaming back.

Harry throws his legs over the side of the bed, prepared to spend the day writing sad songs, maybe in a forest somewhere, he thinks, somewhere far from here where he can escape reality. He quite likes the idea himself, and it isn’t as if he has anything else to do. He reaches over toward the nightstand to grab his journal.

It’s not there.

Harry feels his heart drop into his stomach.

He frantically searches under and around the bed, in the covers, between the mattress, the bathroom, the closet, the nightstand drawer, but his book is none of those places.

Harry’s lungs stop working properly, only allowing him short, desperate gulps. He knows what would happen if someone read it. It would mean therapists and lack of privacy and scandal with the media, probably even set the whole tour back, and worst of all, Louis would see that Harry was a useless excuse of a boy who is incapable of appreciating what he has, and being happy, and leave once and for all.

Tears start gathering behind his eyelids, and voices start blaring in his head on repeat, making it difficult to see but somehow he makes it to the door, yanking it open and stumbling out only to hit something soft with his foot. He looks down and sees a black figure lying in a fetal position on the floor. He screams.

He wonders if this is what insanity feels like.

 

The figure squirms and Harry shuts his eyes, desperately searching for something to hold onto. The _thing_ on the floor suddenly knocks him off his feet, throwing out a limb. He falls on top of it and it yelps. Harry curls into a ball, rocking back and forth waiting for it to lash out at him.

Only then does he hear the one voice that could always scare away his demons no matter how vicious and harmful they might be.

“Harry. Harry, hey. Calm down, baby, please. Harry. Shh, it’s okay darling, it’s me. It’s Louis. I’m here. It’s okay. Nothing is going to hurt you. Harry. Baby. Please breathe you’re scaring me darling. Hazza, honey, it’s _okay_. No one wants to hurt you, come on, breathe for me please baby. Breathe,” He soothes.

Harry focuses on Louis’ deep breaths that he can feel against his back and calms down after a couple minutes. He opens his eyes to turn around and face Louis when he sees his journal lying next to his feet where Louis had been.

His body stiffens up and Louis feels it. Louis knows Harry has seen it there; knows that Louis read it.

 

Then everything goes to shit.

 

-

 

Five days later, stomach overflowing with alcohol and brain hazy with smoke, it’s all a bit of a blur. He’s in their living room, if _their’s_ is even a thing, he doesn’t know anymore. It’s a bit ironic he’s just where he was when it all really fell apart, making Harry’s poem a reality.

He hasn’t showered in days, his stubble has turned into a full on beard, and as much as he knows he’s fading away, he can’t bring himself back. He’s more lost than he’s ever been in his life, and he was lost most of it until he met Harry, so that’s saying something.

People have told him before the key to moving on is accepting it happened, forgetting, and surrounding yourself with better things. He doesn’t remember who said that, but they’re fucking _stupid._ He can’t do any of that to begin with, nor does he want to. He refuses to accept it happened, because he refuses to accept that it’s over. It can’t be the end of it all, not after they went through, not after everything they _shared._

He can’t forget the best thing that ever happened to him, and that ever will and he certainly can’t surround himself with better things because there is fucking _nothing_ better than Harry. And despite his vodka and nicotine filled haze, desperately stuffing himself with the things that will kill him one day trying to just push it out of  his mind for even a _minute_ , all he can do is remember.

 

-

 

_“Harry, wait, please, before you get angry, I didn’t read it to try and invade your privacy and-“_

_“Wow, Louis. This is low, even for you,” Harry cut him off, voice cold and hard, eyes empty when Louis turned to look at him pleadingly. The fact that he didn’t display any emotions at all is what scared Louis the most._

_“Harry, no I-“_

_“No. Just stop. I don’t need to hear any more of your bullshit excuses. Please, save them for someone who cares to listen. I don’t. I thought I could at least keep my right to privacy, considering it’s my fucking_ journal _but apparently being with you means giving up everything that was mine, even the things I wasn’t aware I had to share. But this, this is too fucking far, even for me to put up with, Louis.”_

_His voice gets increasingly louder the longer he talks. Louis can feel the panic rising up, choking him, bringing tears to his eyes but not words to his mouth._

_“God, damn Louis! We were so great! What did I do to make you want to leave all the time? What did I do to make you fall out of love with me? Was it even there in the first place? Or did you just pretend because you didn’t want to be alone? I don’t understand! I thought what we had was real, and I don’t know what I did to ruin it, please tell me what I did, I-“_

_Louis managed to get the connection between his brain and his mouth working again. He was in tears by now, heart beating so fast it felt like it could stop any minute from exhaustion._

_“HARRY!” He shouted hysterically, “Please, please stop, you didn’t do anything wrong, I never wanted to leave you, I just never felt good enough for you, and I don’t deserve you, and you’re so great, Harry, so lovely, and I love you so much, but-“_

_He was cut off again, but Harry wasn’t yelling this time._

_“Please, just stop,” He whispered. “I can’t sit here and listen to you tell me how it was your fault not mine, and it was great while it lasted, but you just can’t take it anymore. Spare me the cliché, seriously. I don’t know what exactly is going through your brain, Louis, but we all have our insecurities, you of all people know that, considering you just read my journal.” He spits the last bit out rather harshly, causing Louis to wince, but he can’t stop now, can’t take it back because it’s only the truth and he’s so, so hurt he can feel it in his bones._

_“I constantly feel unworthy to be with you, Louis. I hold you close every night and tell you I love you, terrified that I’ll wake up and you would have finally seen me the way I see me and left. But I don’t leave you because of my own fears. I just try to be better. Try to be good enough for you; to give you what you deserve. But clearly I wasn’t, and I’m sorry, but this is all I can be. I’m sorry I made you fall out of love.” His voice cracks on the last word._

_He grabs his journal and gets up unsteadily, not looking back at Louis as he hugs the leather bound book to his chest and walks towards the door, hand constantly going up to wipe tears off his face. When he reaches the door, he grabs phone, wallet, and shoes, opening it and closing it gently, never looking back. If he had, he would’ve seen Louis in a ball, shaking uncontrollably, arms out as if to grab Harry, but he walked out the door, and Louis let him._

_Harry didn’t take his key._

-

 

Harry had come back two days later, knocking sharply on the front door. When Louis opened it to see him he almost cried again, even though he felt like there was physically no more water in his body to cry out.

But then Harry muttered a, “Need my car keys and some clothes,” and pushed past Louis to quickly grab the items and was gone in less than five minutes. He didn’t even take off his shoes. He _always_ takes off his shoes. Even if he’s only staying a minute. Louis collapsed against the door once he was gone.

He didn’t move for the rest of the day.

 

;

 

Zayn came over a few times a day, to make sure Louis ate, knowing full well that Louis wouldn’t have if he hadn’t forced it down his throat, and to cradle him when he sobbed his heart out, and rub his back when he threw up his stomach contents of hard alcohol, and sometimes just to have a smoke with him and tell Louis gently that no, he didn’t know where Harry was, but he would come back and then Louis needed to explain himself better and tell Harry just how much he still loved him, and that he knew if Louis did that, he would get his boy back.

Five days past, and Harry still hadn’t come back. The boys and Perrie came to check on him every day, but knew that the only thing that would bring Louis out of his misery was if Harry came back, and that nothing, not even football, beer, and weed would make him feel better.

Louis knew that Liam, Niall, Zayn, and Perrie were desperately trying to contact Harry, not only for Louis’ sake, but also because they were worried; that Harry never disappeared this long without telling someone or getting papped. But his phone was always off, and for once, there were no mentions of him in the media.

Louis also knew that calling Harry himself would do nothing; that he wouldn’t turn his phone back on until he was ready and what would Louis say? He couldn’t say anything to him over the phone anyway- the things he needed to tell Harry were things you said in person, no arguments about it.

So, he spent his days drinking and smoking, listening to sad songs about love gone wrong, lying on the floor of the living room. He never slept in the bed, not even the guest one. It wasn’t a healthy cycle, but Louis couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

;

 

It happened on the sixth day. It was only three in the afternoon, and Louis was already tipsy, stumbling back to the living room from the kitchen where he was grabbing another bottle of some unknown type of booze. He wasn’t focusing on walking, and ran right into the table that was up behind the couch. He let out a curse, knocking over a picture frame in his clumsiness. He put the bottle down and picked the picture up, turning it over.

His breath hitched, and he could feel the tears building up at the memory.

It was Harry and him, fresh out of the X-Factor house, only just entering the world of fame and fortune and greed that they knew all too well now. It was some silly interview; them in all their baggy pants and dumb polos and flat hair glory. They were so innocent. Innocent and so in love, unaware of the hatred and hiding they would be forced into the larger their careers got.

It wasn’t a private moment; Louis knew that the picture was all over girls tumblr and twitter pages, but it was one of his absolute favourites. Some stupid paparazzo had managed to capture their love in a photo, so despairingly obvious, arms wrapped around each other eyes full of love and fond smiles intact.

They never fell out of love, is the thing. Almost four years later, Louis’ breath still hitched every time Harry smiled. His stomach exploded with millions of butterflies every time Harry kissed him. He still wondered every single minute of every how he managed to get Harry Styles. He still desperately wanted to make him a Harry Tomlinson. Or himself a Louis Styles.  He wanted to have a houseful of mini Harry’s and wakeup to a face full of gray thinning curls 60 years from now.

He didn’t deserve Harry. But Harry still somehow loved him and, oh God, _Harry._ His boy. His sweet angel that genuinely made the world happier by just existing. The love of his life, and all the lives after this one. Who thought it was even fucking possible for Louis to fall out of love with him.

The fuck if Louis was going to let him get away.

 He needed to fix things, _now._ He needed to find his boy and fucking beg at his feet if that’s what it took. He needed to try to be what Harry deserved every single fucking day until he died. He needed to hold him tight, and never, _ever_ leave, unless that’s what Harry wanted. He needed to marry this boy; to spend the rest of his life loving him and trying to make him happy.

There was a wild fire inside Louis now, stronger than when he got through the first stage of the X-Factor or became 1/5 of the largest boyband in the world, or held his siblings for the first time ever. It was an eternal flame before, the one that burned for Harry, but it was so much stronger than he thought it had ever been.

Suddenly, he was snapped out internal crisis. He carefully sat the photograph back down, running into the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee (even though he hated coffee with a passion), to sober up, although the buzz that came with alcohol had been reduced to a faint humming already. He drank it in gulps, burning his tongue, yet giving zero fucks. He ran into the master bathroom, tripping on the way there about five times while trying to tear his clothes off. He jumped into the shower while it was still cold, washing up faster than he had since he was in school with his mum yelling at him every two seconds that he was going to be late.

He shaved his face-monster as quickly as he could, nicking himself only a couple times, and just taking a minute to admire how he looked without course hair covering half his face.

He ran into the ridiculous closet that was larger than his childhood room, the one Harry loved so much he rearranged it nearly every time they were in London, with it’s stupid island and dumb mini fridge seriously who needs a mini fridge in their _closet_? Not Louis, that’s for sure. But Harry loved it so naturally Louis was quite fond of it as well.

He didn’t bother with the ten minute struggle of putting on skinnies, instead opting for a pair of trusty gray sweatpants and of course, Harry’s lavender jumper.

There was quite a story behind that damn sweater. Harry bought it one day on one of his hipster shopping sprees, 4 four sizes too big for himself, making it at _least_ six times too big for Louis. He literally swam in it, and he could very well drown if he tried. It comforted him more than anything when Harry himself wasn’t around. Granted, he couldn’t wear it in public anymore since the fans knew it was Harry’s, but he wore it almost all time when they were in private. It barely even smelled like Harry anymore because he wore it so much, but when his boyfriend’s scent completely faded Louis would spray it with his cologne or force Harry to wear it for a day and it would be as good as new.

Louis put it on because he always felt protected and brave when he was wearing it; like he was wearing a small bit of Harry.

Finally he was cleaned up enough to present himself to Harry. He ran through the house, not bothering with his phone or wallet or shoes, only grabbing his keys and slamming the door shut. He only remembered to lock it at the last second.

He started walking down the front steps, only to realize he had no idea where Harry was. Last time Zayn had checked in on Louis’ state of decay, he still didn’t know of Harry’s whereabouts.

Louis decided that if Harry was going to tell any of the boys where he was, it would be Liam. He knew that Gemma and Anne were the most likely people to know where his boyfriend was, but he didn’t really fancy talking to them right now when they knew how badly he fucked up. They were just as much his family and Harry’s, and he really didn’t like disappointing him. He just hoped Liam would know.

;

Liam didn’t know.

Louis listened to him go on about how Louis was “one lucky fucker to have the one person who made the Sun look like a mere street lamp and that no matter how fucking insecure Louis was, if he had any brains at all, he would go find him right the fuck now”. Forever the poetic one, Liam. Did he not realize Louis knew all of that, that finding Harry was exactly what his was trying to do?

 Louis announced this, curling in on himself when he was reminded once again just how amazing his boy was and just how royally he had screwed up. Liam immediately scooped him into a hug, kissing his temple and apologizing, telling him he hadn’t lost Harry just yet and to try Niall, that he mentioned talking to Harry a couple days ago, saying that Harry had told Niall he was “fine but needed to get away and clear his head for a few days”.

;

Now Louis is standing in front of Niall’s flat, on the porch but not making a move to knock or ring the doorbell. He tugged the sleeves of Harry’s jumper over his hands and taking a deep breath, then proceeding to ring the doorbell once, instead of the non-stop until Niall answered the door as he normally would.

He stood off to the side, suddenly worried that Niall would peer through the peephole, see it was him and not allow him in. He waited a nerve-wracking two minutes before ringing it again. This time he soon heard the door being unlocked and opened to the sight of one Niall Horan in nothing but small black boxers, hair wet and unstyled as though he has just finished showering.

His mouth as open as though he was about to speak, when he took in the sight of Louis at his front door and quickly shut it.

“Lou,” he whispered after a moment of silence.

“Niall,” Louis replied, voice unsteady and rough like he had just spent a long period of time crying and fuck, when did that happen? “I know I screwed up, but I need to fix things so you can give me as long of a lecture as you want later, but please, _please_ tell me where he is.”

“Nah mate, m’not gonna lecture you, just-“

“Niall? Who’s at the door-oh.” Came Harry’s voice from further inside the flat. He was wearing an apron with the irish flag covering it, spatula in hand when he saw Louis.

His hair was down, in tighter curls than normal, as if he had washed and not used his special conditioner that helped to contain the mass like he usually did. It made Louis choke up, seeing his boy after six days of being apart, and nearly two weeks of tension beforehand.

He was so fucking _beautiful_ ; Louis wandered for a moment how the fuck he ever got anything done when he had managed to pull such a gorgeous boy. His eyes were bright green and wide, although they didn’t have the same spark in them that they normally did, and there were dark purple bags under his eyes that were identical to the ones below Louis’.

Even though Louis knew that after nearly four years of sleeping together that neither of them slept alone well, it still served him comfort seeing that Harry was affected as much as he was. It gave him the courage to run at his boy when his eyes watered and he whispered a small broken, “Louis”.

He bolted past Niall who watched as Louis tackled Harry to the ground with the force of his hug. His face formed a sad smile and he moved to the kitchen to give the two the privacy they needed to sort everything out.

-

Like every couple, Harry and Louis fought from time to time. Granted, they fought much less than normal couples did, but they knew it was only because they were much more in sync than any old normal couple. They knew what they had was special, and with everything they went through on a daily basis, being restricted of public affection to the point of not even being to stand next to each other most times, they cherished it more than normal people.

This knowledge, along with the fact that both Louis and Harry knew that they were _it_ for each other made most of their fights over frivolous things, solved quickly with a kiss or a compromise. Even when their fights were more serious, neither boy could go two days without crawling back.

Which was why when Harry walked out this time, and four days passed, he wasn’t sure if things would go back to the way they were.

 

;

 

When he walked out, he had driven directly to Holmes Chapel, without so much as a call to his mum (it would have been hard considering he didn’t have his phone). He cried his weight out in tears while she stroked his hair and grimaced, not missing having to hold her son tight just to keep him together while he sobbed because someone had hurt him to the point of he didn’t want to exist anymore. She had done it way to many times before and did not miss the stomach dropping fear that her angel may never smile again.

Harry had felt much better when two days passed of baking and gardening with his mum, meeting up with old friends, _Friends_ marathons with Gemma who had driven up when she heard Harry was back at home, and sleeping in his childhood bed. He was only allowed to go back home once he had promised Anne ten times that he would be alright; that he was going to kip with Niall until he could sort things out with Louis. (The “if” remained unspoken on Harry's part.)

He drove back down with Gemma, blasting songs that Louis would automatically scoff at and dub his ‘hipster indie shit’. Him and his sister both shared a passion for good music and it was refreshing in a sense that Harry couldn’t describe to spend some quality time with her.

 

;

 

Niall, Gemma, and Harry spent the day together, shopping and eating and drinking while wearing ridiculous disguises at Niall’s insistence. So ridiculous, that while receiving plenty strange looks, they were not noticed once. It was nice for a change.

Harry had only thought about Louis a couple times that day, which was Niall and Gemma’s goal (although  most of the day they were too wrapped up in each other, but Harry didn’t mind, he loved seeing them both happy; didn't mind the idea of them together, and he kept his own mind off Louis by imagining how the different aspects of Gemma and Niall’s relationship would work. ((Their ship name would definitely be Gemiall)) ((Their dates would include learning Irish folk dancing, dyeing each other’s hair and discovering as many different hole-in-the-wall restaurants as they could in London.)) ((Their wedding would be in Cheshire but their honeymoon would be in Ireland (((Harry refused to think further into that one))))

When the three of them had walked into Burberry, Harry caught himself nearly buying something for Louis three times. His heart panged in his chest at the thought, but pushed it aside, burying himself in a deep text conversation with Ed about dyeing his eyebrows lavender. 

 

;

 

Harry had an intense heart-to-heart with Niall that night that had resulted in tears from both of them, crying into each other shoulders before picking themselves up and falling into an all-night FIFA tournament while they sniffled and drank beer.

 ;

 

Now here Harry was on the hard wood of Niall’s living room (he didn’t have plush white rug like Harry and Louis did) with his boy sobbing into his arms, shaking with his nails digging into Harry’s shoulders.

Harry then noticed that he was muttering something over and over like a chant. He rubbed up and down Louis back- that was covered in his jumper which calmed Harry down more than Louis would ever know- planting one hand in his hair and massaging his scalp like Louis always did to him when he was upset, knowing it helped to calm down his boyfriend as well. He listened closer, discovering that Louis was saying “I’m sorry” over and over again, speech slurred with tears, as he desperately tried to catch his breath.

Harry’s own breath was shaking, body heaving with the force of it, scared to death that this was just a dream; that this was his imagination at work; that he really had lost Louis.

He took shuddering gulp of air.  
  
“Louis, darling, breathe.”

His voice was raspy and deep, barely above a whisper but it made Louis look up, blue eyes almost gray with the amount of unshed tears they held. Harry knew his eyes were filled with tears too, could feel them forming in the corners, but when he saw his gorgeous boy so broken, it made them spill over.

Louis seemed to jump into action at that. He quickly wiped Harry’s tears with one thumb, the other rubbing back and forth on his cheek. He took a few shattered deep breaths of his own, calming down enough to speak.

“P-lease, please don’t cry. I’ve already made you shed enough tears over me. I-“ He stopped, closing his eyes for a moment. “I love you s-so much Harry. Please don’t cry.”

Harry gave him a small, sad smile at that. Even with his eyes puffy and bloodshot, it still made Louis’ breath catch.

“M’sorry, I just, I thought I lost you for good. Was so scared Lou, love you so much. M’sorry I-“

“No. Harry, _stop_. You’ve nothing to apologize for. What I did was way out of line, all of it.” He paused, maneuvering himself into a sitting position. He leaned his back against the couch, then pulled Harry gently into his lap. Harry placed his legs on either side of his boyfriend and Louis felt himself breathe easier. He took both of Harry’s larger hands into his own, intertwining their fingers and squeezing. Harry’s eyes shifted from their joined hands back to Louis’ eyes. Louis felt as though he could do this now, with his boy in his lap; he could sort out of his jumbled thoughts and fix this with Harry by his side.

“I, fuck Harry, you are the best thing that has ever and will ever happen to me. I hope you know that. I love you with all of my heart, and I never stopped. I can’t, it’s impossible. You’ve woven your way into every single aspect of my life; everything that is mine is also yours, I would be _nothing_ without you, Haz. You have my heart, the gross, bloody, fist-sized thing it is all for yourself. I won’t ever forgive myself for leaving you on your own all of those times, to the point where you thought I didn’t love you anymore. I got so insecure about being with you, I can’t even explain it. You’re the sun Harry, and I’m a rock on the ocean floor. But I understand now, that maybe you get insecure being with me as well; that instead of running like I usually do I should work more on being what you deserve. And fuck, I will. I will spend every day for the rest of my life trying to make you happy, loving you, asking myself how the fuck I managed to get so lucky. I will, I swear I will.”

Harry smiled a tad bit wider, tears spilling over, falling onto his neck and momentarily getting caught in the dips of his collarbones. He squeezed Louis’ hands, opening his mouth to speak but Louis wasn’t done yet.

“I’m also sorry about your journal. You’re right, just because we share so many things doesn’t mean at all that I have the right to invade your privacy. I don’t, and I hope you know I would never take your journal and read it, or anything you didn’t want me to. I only read the poems you’d written from a couple days back because you fell asleep with it open and it caught my eye and I was worried. But I was the reason you were writing those things and I still had no right to read them and I’m sorry, so so sorry, for everything I never meant to make you sad fuck all I need in life to be happy is your smile and your hand in mine and I let my thoughts overtake me and push you away,” he voice broke and more tears traveled down his cheeks.

This time, Harry cut him off.

“Lou, Louis, don’t cry it’s okay, alright love, I forgive you.” He released one hand to wipe Louis’ tears, quickly kissing the tracks left in their place. It made Louis cry harder.

“I hope you never again feel insecure to be with me, because if anything, _I’m_ not what _you_ deserve.” Louis opened his mouth to argue but Harry shushed him. “That’s my point, Lou, we’re never going to feel worthy of each other, but please don’t let it tear you down, because I love you so, _so_ much and there will never be a day where I think ‘wow I can do better than this’ and leave. Because I can’t. It doesn’t get better than you Louis, and even if it did it wouldn’t matter because you are the only one; you’re _it_ for me.

As for the journal, I’m really sorry I didn’t listen to you when you tried to tell me. I was just angry and hurt because of the situation, Lou, and I let it get the best of me. I would let you read the whole thing if you wanted, because I trust you, and I want you to have every piece of me I have to offer if you’ll take it. We’re okay, yeah? Let’s just be more open with each other now. I love you, Lou, this was just a bump in the road, now please stop crying darling.”

Louis made a strangled noise and threw his arms around Harry, pulling him as close as possible, making it difficult to breathe, but he didn’t care. Harry was his air and they were okay and Harry loved him and _they were okay._

“Fuck Harry I love you more than anything , I’m so sorry, I love you so much, I swear I’ll be better and I’ll be more open about how I feel, promise, love you so much,” He whispered into Harry’s ear. “I’m so lucky to have you, gonna spend every day trying to be a better man for you. I’m gonna marry the daylights out of you. Have ten kids, enough to make our own footie team. Fuck, marry me please?”

Harry pulled back, looking at Louis with wide eyes.

“Are you proposing to me Louis Tomlinson?” he asked, going for amused but his voice ended up coming out more emotional.

“ _Fuck_ , no, pretend you didn’t hear that last bit. M’gonna ask you properly, plan it all out and stuff, you didn’t hear that.”

Harry’s small smile burst into a grin so large it could rival 17-year old Harry’s smile. Louis’ heart actually exploded at that (that would make for an interesting article, Louis Tomlinson: died of heart explosion due to Harry Styles’ smile), so happy to see his boy happy again.

They both leaned in, lips meeting in the middle although neither of them could stop smiling long enough to kiss properly, but it didn’t matter.

At this point they were pulled back into reality when Niall stumbled in, tears rolling down his face, rambling, but neither Harry nor Louis could make out what he was saying, accent considerably thicker with emotion. He dropped down beside them, hugging them and they caught the tail end of what he was saying.

“So happy you two made up, hate seeing me best mates fight, ‘specially when they are so perfect fer each other, love you both so much, ye wankers.”

They looked at each other, laughing before wrapped their arms around Niall, hopelessly endeared by how big of a heart the boy had, telling him they loved him too.

;

The rest of the night was spent with all five boys at Niall’s flat with too many boxes of pizza, beer, and FIFA. Liam and Zayn had been delighted to hear that Harry and Louis made up, coming over to make it a proper lads night. Louis and Harry didn’t move away from each other the entire night, pecking each other on the lips after nearly every bite of pizza, sharing a beer, even going as far as following one another to the kitchen when they needed to get another.

It was sickening really, but they had never fought for six days- they had quite a lot to make up for. None of the boys complained, ecstatic to see them happy again after all personally having to hug at least one of them while they cried. They didn't mind, that is, until Louis dropped his controller in the middle of a match and turned around to shove his tongue down Harry’s throat when his boyfriend started to kiss up his neck while his hand simultaneously moved down Louis’ stomach.

At that point, all three boys groaned, pausing the game and collecting trash while moaning “get a room, ya fucks and not mine” (Niall) and “try not to eat each other, horny bastards” (Zayno which caused him and Niall to fall into a heated conversation of 'but if they ate each other would they still be there?) and “Jesus, couldn’t you at least wait till the end of that round?” (Liam), but they were all fond and let the happy couple be, parting their separate ways.  

Louis smiled into Harry’s mouth, laying down on the long couch and pulling Harry on top of him as close as possible, so not even a sheet of paper could be slid between their bodies.

 

-

 

Later that night, Harry collapsed on top of Louis, sweat mingling between their naked chests after three intense rounds. He kissed Louis on the lips gently, neither boy moving until they had nearly fallen asleep.

"Hey Lou?"

"Yes pumpkin?"

"I love you," Harry whispered, lips barely brushing Louis' own.

Louis pushed Harry back an inch so he could look into his eyes.

"I love you too, Hazza, so much."

Harry smiled, dimple appearing and eyes lighting up.

"Hey Lou?" he giggled. Louis poked the mini crater on the side of his face, smiling back just as wide.

"Yes, love, what is it?" He laughed, amazed at how after all this time Harry still managed to reach a whole new level of charming.

"Yes. Even if you didn't mean to ask, that's still my answer and it always will be. Yes, I want to spend the rest of my life and all the lives after that with you." He whispered his confession, like it was a secret that would stay between them in this moment; the dim light of the lamp casting a glow over the room, the white sheets rumpled at their waists, the way Harry's body loomed over him, reminding him that no matter what happened, he knew he would always have this; always have Harry.

He grinned, surging up to kiss Harry with as much emotion as he could possibly relay into it.

"That's good to know, glad the feeling is mutual because you couldn't get rid of me if you tried, Mr. Styles."

Harry'a grin widened, making it difficult to speak.

"That's Mr. Soon-to-be-Tomlinson to you, I think."

Louis' eyes gleamed. "What if I want to be a Styles?"

"Hmm, guess we could compromise, that's the point of marriage innit? Could be the Tomlinson-Styleses, I reckon."

"Tomlinson-Styleses, hm? Sounds pretty amazing to me. Our kids will have the coolest last name on the block."

"They'll also have the coolest dads."

"Well, one cool dad at least, and one embarrassing one."

Harry squawked, pinching Louis' nipple in retaliation. "Excuse you, I'll be the coolest dad in town."

"Of course you will babe, and I'll be the luckiest guy in the world to get to raise kids with you."

"Looouuuu, stop you're making me blush," Harry's voice came muffled from where he had buried it into Louis' chest. 

Louis flipped them around, exposing Harry's gorgeous flushed face.

"Love making you blush though, you're so beautiful, fuck m'so lucky."

"I'm just as lucky. Goodness gracious, we're proper disgusting now."

"That we are. But you absolutely love it."

Harry hummed. "Mm, absolutely love you."

Louis settled himself against Harry's chest, throwing a leg and an arm over his boy.

"And I absolutely love you, Haz. Get some sleep baby, know you're exhausted."

"Night night sweet cheeks."

Louis laughed quietly, remembering the nicknames.

"Good night baby cakes." He squeezed Harry's hip, snuggling in closer.

He listened to Harry's heartbeat; the one that beats in time with his. When Louis fell asleep, it was to images of rings and vows and little curly hair toddlers running around.

 

 

 He could finally breathe again.

  

 

 

 

 

 

.

**Author's Note:**

> there will be sequel featuring a proper proposal and smut and all that jazz so stayed tuned if this was any good 
> 
> my tumblr is // headband-stylinsons come talk to me!


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